


Fighting Fair

by orphan_account



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: I'm still kinda reeling from being on new meds so it's shorter than anything I usually write, M/M, however I don't know a whole lot about sparring to write vivid detail, so yeah., this is a sort of drabble based off of an otp tumblr post
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-24
Updated: 2016-07-24
Packaged: 2018-07-26 09:11:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7568485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sparring with your partner puts the 'heat' in 'heat of battle.' Very short sort-of drabble.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fighting Fair

**Author's Note:**

> Jathrin is one of those, "don't look at my boner when we fight" kind of people and I can appreciate that. Maybe one day I'll expand on this and write gratuitous smut. Maybe.

“Surely you are better than _that_ …”

“It’s a weapon I’m not used to! Give me a break!”

“It is the same concept! You should be skilled at this!”

“ _Ugh_. Go again then. This is impossible.”

Sharply metallic, the clink of steel swords striking one another filled the open space behind the tavern. Blunt sounds of the tapered, steel edges bouncing off of the thick wooden faces of shields floated across the courtyard; underscored by grunts and frustrated curses.

Jathrin’s tall boots passed through the thick grasses swaying in the crisp morning breeze howling over the high ramparts, and he smiled to himself as Ferion’s disgruntled sighs followed every chastising taunt by Cassandra. He leant against the Tavern wall, arms folded neatly across his chest, and watched as his boyfriend sparred with the Seeker.

Cassandra lunged, driving the tip of her sword into Ferion’s hastily readied shield, and he jumped back to bat the weapon away. Attempting to counter, Ferion mimicked the lunge, his motions less fluid and easily dodged. The longsword held tightly in his left hand seemed clumsy in comparison to the greatsword he wielded as if it weighed next to nothing.

Making a noise of disgust, Cassandra lowered her weapons and stood, making eye contact with Jathrin and beckoning him over. Jathrin nodded, coming to his boyfriend’s side with raised brows.

“Maybe _you_ can help him,” she shoved the sword and shield against Jathrin’s chest, waving him off with a dismissive hand as she walked towards the tavern.

Ferion sighed, throwing the longsword to the ground with disdain. “I don’t see why she insists I learn how to use a sword and shield. I’m perfectly happy with my greatsword, and I don’t typically get wounded in battle. This is incredibly frustrating.”

After giving the shield in his right hand the same fate as the longsword, Ferion sank miserably against the lone bench Cassandra would often occupy as she devoured the pages of Varric’s books. He ran a hand along the back of his neck, looking unhappily at the ground.

Jathrin set the sword and shield foisted upon him aside, smirking as he drew the greatsword from its sheath against his back. “I have an idea,” He offered, holding tightly to the embellished grip. “What about a sparring match with a weapon you are familiar with? Perhaps you can work out the anger left behind by Cassandra with me?”

Ferion looked up, chuckling as Jathrin’s eyes held a mischievous glint. “Alright,” he walked towards the far wall, gathering up his greatsword and turning to face Jathrin with a coy smirk. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

They sank down, knees bent and fingers paling beneath the grip on their weapons. Ferion’s brows drew in, his smirk melting into a veneer of focus. Jathrin watched as the muscle in Ferion’s bare arm twitched underneath the tension, and he grit his teeth. “Your move.”

Lunging forward, Ferion struck the side of Jathrin’s sword, the thick metallic sound reverberating across the small space. Jathrin countered easily, taking advantage of the wide stance that left Ferion open to attack.

“Mind your space, Lethallin.” He teased, watching Ferion’s body tense, the musculature beneath the taut, freckled skin turning pink with exertion. “Do not go easy because it is me. I know you do not leave yourself open in the heat of battle.”

Ferion’s fingers tightened around the sword grip. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You will not.” Jathrin’s voice was a steady promise, accompanied by a knowing nod that put fire in Ferion’s palms.

Eyes narrowed, focus honed, Ferion nodded and squared his shoulders to choke off the weak points that left him open to attack. Jathrin smirked, sinking lower into his defensive stance, and watching Ferion’s every move with a razor sharp focus that narrowed his eyes.

“Your move, Jathrin.”

They watched each other, bodies tensed, ready to react. It was if they were playing chess, each move carefully thought out, each turn taken with respect to the opponent, though each lunge and block laced with the burning desire to win. They moved together, pawns guided across the board, each turn taken with deliberate consideration.

Jathrin feinted on Ferion’s right, following through with a lunge into the space opened up on his left. Countering fluidly with a lurching dodge, Ferion retaliated easily, the loud reverberation of their swords meeting once more bouncing off of the grey stone walls.

Their sparring match played out with tension, each lunge and counterattack only increasing in strength. Ferion’s brow dampened with sweat as his blood coursed through his veins, the heat of his reaver abilities pulsing beneath his fingertips. Jathrin dodged and countered as his heart slammed itself against his ribcage, the fire of the same abilities fueling him.

Arched swings reflected the sun, sharp metal glinting as the focus and heat enveloping their bodies pushed the battle towards the wall. Jathrin’s senses were acute, and he all but snarled as he was backed into the corner. Ferion lunged again, forcing his boyfriend to back against the stone until it dug into his spine. With the tempered edge of his blade at Jathrin’s throat, Ferion closed the distance between their bodies, his face unreadable.

Their eyes met, and Jathrin’s battle-rage melted into concern as Ferion was unrelenting. “You won.” He stated, his voice attempting to discern his boyfriend’s motivation. Sweat beaded up on his forehead, and Jathrin’s heart thrummed with heavy beats.

Without breaking eye contact, and in a swift motion, Ferion dropped the sword to the side, and cupped Jathrin’s cheeks to pull him into a breathless kiss. Jathrin let his own weapon fall from his grip, winding his arms around Ferion’s torso to hug their bodies closer together.

They parted only after Ferion peppered teasing kisses against Jathrin’s lips, a smug acknowledgment of his victory. Jathrin gently pinched his boyfriend’s side, smirking as Ferion shot him a displeased look.

“Enjoy your victory for now, but in the near future, I demand a rematch. You do not play fair.”

“I absolutely play fair! You’re just upset that you lost. Admit it.”

“Never.” Jathrin scooped Ferion’s body up with a laugh, attacking his flushed, freckled skin with a plethora of kisses that put Ferion into a fit of giggles as he squirmed in the embrace. “Also,” Jathrin began as he ceased his relentless attack, letting Ferion catch his breath.

“Hmm?”

His lips pressed against Ferion’s ear, a smirking tugging at the edges. “I could watch you engaged in battle for days on end. The view is quite pleasing.”

Jathrin could almost hear the blood pooling beneath Ferion’s cheeks as the tips of his ears went red. “Well,” Ferion cleared his throat, attempting to regain his composure. “I’ll have to keep that in mind for the next time we spar. I can use it to my advantage.”

Pulling back, Jathrin laughed and shook his head. “Creators,” he mused, watching as his boyfriend smirked at him with cocked brows.  “Perhaps I should have kept that bit to myself.”


End file.
